I would hate to be paper
at the mercy of a pen
used as a landfill for broken hearts
and things that might have been

With trails of depression
deeper than the words
screams full of anguish
that can nver be heard

I would hate to be pen
in the hands of a man
made to pour out it's blood
for things it doesn't understand

A slave to it's master
it must do as it's told
and when drained of all it's glory
it is capped off and thrown

I bet that pen & paper
would surely hate to be me
wondering how someone
could endure so much misery

only a shadow remains
of a man i once knew
abusing pen & paper
with testimony of a fool